


Coming Home

by lxnapxrrilla



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: College AU, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentions of Rape, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxnapxrrilla/pseuds/lxnapxrrilla
Summary: When a deterioration in Regina's health has her dropping out of college and moving back home with her parents, she seeks comfort in an old friend. Will he be enough to make her stay? (Mentions of suicide and self-harm).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fan fiction I've written in a long time, and I'm not too sure where I'm going with it just yet. But the idea came to me and I needed to write it down! Rated M for mentions of suicide and self-harm.

My _God_ , it's freezing. 

Perhaps she should have grabbed her coat in passing, or even her bathrobe that now hangs uselessly on the back of her bedroom door. But the dire need to be out of the house overthrew the logical voice in her mind that had forewarned her to wear something a little more than just the flimsy cotton pyjama set she’d pulled on before climbing into bed the night before.  
  
Snow had fallen through the night, heavy, their quaint town now a blanket of crisp white. She sits herself on the chair on their porch, the cup of tea grasped tightly between slender fingers doing little to warm her frail body. 

And she considers heading back inside, a brief thought that flutters away as quickly as it had come. Because, no - she can't stand another minute inside that house. 

Having been holed up in her bedroom since returning three days prior, she's desperate for the change in scenery. Desperate to no longer feel as if her lungs are constricted, as if she's unable to breath, as if she's a prisoner in her own home.

In an attempt to provide herself with some form of warmth, she crosses her legs beneath her body, curls up in the chair, and rests the mug upon her bare thigh, still gripping it with one hand. And she breathes. Deep and long. 

And for the first time in what feels like forever, she relaxes. 

Little noise disturbs her peace, unsurprisingly. It's a fraction past 7 on a cold, dark Sunday morning, and most normal people are still tucked up in bed, grateful for a single day of calm before the work week starts once more. 

There’s a faint roar of cars in the distance as they speed up the highway, but they travel by few and far, interrupting her silence only momentarily before leaving her to bask in the welcoming quiet of the morning once more. 

She sips slowly at her tea, the liquid scalding her tongue ever so. Her head falls back, her eyes fall closed, her worries fall away. In the weeks just passed, solitude had proven itself to be her greatest enemy. It ate away at her, broke her down, and rose victorious. But now, as she sits upon a chair made of wicker, sipping slowly at a mug of earl grey, she finds herself basking in the loneliness. She's grateful for a moment of peace amongst the storm.

But, alas, it’s shattered much too soon as a familiar voice calls out to her, rushing by her like the bitter winds that grace the morning. 

“Regina?”

Her brow creases momentarily, and she's unsure if she’d imagined it. But then he calls to her again, and she’s sitting up, eyes wide as her gaze falls upon her intruder. 

Robin Locksley had been her neighbour since himself and his family had moved to the town almost sixteen years ago. He and Regina had become fast friends, and were thought to be inseparable. But times changed, years passed, and the young Mills woman found herself moving away for college while her former friend decided to stay put. Last she’d heard, he was working for a small coffee shop in the middle of town. It saddened her, really - to know that such an intelligent man chose not to pursue a greater career. But what business is it of hers to interfere?

“I'd heard you'd come home, but I thought I'd give you time to settle in before I came for a catch up.” His voice is hushed somewhat, not wishing to disturb the majority of their neighbours that are sleeping the morning away. A slight smile graces his lips, but she sees it doesn't reach his eyes. 

His eyes, an ocean blue, that are focused intently on the bandages that are wound tightly around her forearms. And, by God, does she wish she'd grabbed that bathrobe now. She shies away suddenly, a vulnerability washing over her, and she wonders if he knows. 

Of course he does - how could he not? They live in a small town, and news tends to travel fast. How could anyone not know that the reason the daughter of their mayor had flunked out of college unexpectedly was due to a failed attempt to kill herself? It would most definitely be the current hottest gossip.

He notices her following his gaze, and looks away sheepishly.

“How are you?” He plays it off as a casual question, something you ask of a friend that you've not seen in a while. But she hears the underlying sympathy that laces his words, and it angers her. 

There's nothing Regina Mills hates more than to be pitied. 

“I'm fine.” It's a biting response, a reflex reaction. Over the past few days, she's heard this question a lot - from her mother, her father, and doctors alike - and she's almost trained herself to answer in the same way every time. Because how could she answer with anything else? They've enough to worry about without her adding her own problems to the pile. 

“What has you up so early?”

“I've got to open the shop. They've promoted me to assistant manager.” He says it calmly, almost proudly. He's unshaken by her hostility. She simply nods in response. 

“Speaking of, I'm running late. Perhaps we could catch up at some point?” It's a harmless question, followed by a saddening “I've missed you.” And she certainly can't turn that down, can she? That'd be cruel.

“I'd love that” she utters in response, allowing herself to relax once more. 

And then he's gone, getting in his car and driving off to work. To go about his normal day at his normal job in their normal town. Oh, how she wishes for her life to be normal again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback on the first chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one! I'm worried that my chapters come to screeching halts, but I'm working on it. Again, there's mentions of suicide and implications of self harm.

It’s three days before she sees him again.

For Regina, much of those three days had been spent in the same way as the ones prior; staring out of the window, watching the small flurries of snow flutter down past her, her mother and father interrupting every once in a while to check in on her (she thinks that this is more for their benefit than hers - a sort of fear seems to be instilled in them that at some point they'll knock on her door, with one of their usual cheery _how are you’s?_ and not receive an answer. And understandably so).

In the rare moments she finds herself able to concentrate on anything at all, she’ll read. It's a form of escapism - throwing herself into a book, following the life of a fictional character so she doesn't have to think about her own. It works, but never for very long. 

And then finally, after a long week spent alone with her own thoughts, she wanders outside once more. 

It's another brisk morning; the month of December is rearing its head, the harsh cold coming with it. It seems she's learnt from her previous mistakes as she bundles up in a jacket and a scarf, the added layers protecting her from the bitter winds. She barely makes it down the stairs before she stops. Everything feels too _real_ , and she has to take a moment to adjust.

The snow crunches beneath her feet. 

A car rushes past, its music so loud that she can hear it even through the glass of the windows.

Birds chirp overhead. 

And, suddenly, she feels comfort in being alive. 

She crosses the front yard, slowly, making sure to capture as much of the morning as she can in the short walk between her own home and Robin’s. It doesn't escape her, the looks she receives from her neighbours, all too aware of the recent escapades that had her leaving college midway through her second year, and moving back in with her mother and father. But they don't bother her. Not today. 

Because she's alive. 

And to Regina, that's a victory. 

She raps lightly on the Locksley’s door, so quietly that she's unsure anyone would have heard it. She readies herself to knock a second time when it swings open. He looks half asleep, rubbing at his eyes, stifling a yawn, but he perks up when he sees her. Looks almost shocked that she's stood on his porch, a slight smile gracing her lips. And she almost runs. Perhaps his offer to spend time together a few mornings ago was nothing more than an attempt to be polite to the suicidal girl. But then he grins, leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, and her own smile almost doubles in size.

“Good morning, your majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The term of endearment has her shaking her head, rolling her eyes. It's a nickname he's had for her since middle school, something to do with her regal behaviour, her dire need to always have her own way. She's always been his queen, and if it were anyone else, she'd hate it. But it's him. And how could she ever hate anything he does? 

“I can only spend so much time alone before I go crazy. I was hoping for some company.” Her sentiment is hushed, her gaze trained on her feet. She feels almost silly for asking. Seeking help in anyway shows vulnerability, her mother had always told her. And vulnerability shows weakness. Perhaps if she hadn't believed such a ridiculous statement, she'd have asked for help a couple of weeks ago. And perhaps she wouldn't have ended up in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. 

But alas, she's here now. And so is he, smiling that smug smile of his, and God she's missed him. 

He steps aside, a silent invitation.

“I hope I didn't wake you,” she utters as she steps into the house, deft fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, tongue swiping along her lower lip, and she doesn't miss the way he watches her. Her cheeks flush ever so, and if he notices, he doesn't comment. 

“It was about time I woke up, anyway. My mother would have a fit if she knew I'd slept all day.” He chuckles, a deep sound from his throat, and she's smiling again, his constant cheery mood seemingly contagious. And, oh, how long it's been since she smiled. It feels strange - to be happy, even for a fleeting moment. 

“Come on. I'll make us some tea, and we can catch up.”

————

They end up in his bedroom, and it amazes her how little has changed, even though it's been years since she's been here. Numerous works of art dot the walls, stacks upon stacks of books are piled up in one corner, and his latest project is strewn across his desk. The making of a landscape piece is surrounded by paints and brushes, and she finds herself captivated by it. She's always loved his work - the simplicity of each piece has the ability to tell a much more complex story. For Robin, art has always come naturally. It's a talent. And she admires it. 

The pair make themselves comfortable on the bed, backs to the windows, shoulders pressed together, and it's as if nothing has changed. It's as if she'd never gone to college and left him behind. As if they'd never fallen out of touch, their lives heading in different directions. From a young age, Regina had been certain that she'd move from their quaint town the moment she could, to somewhere bigger and brighter and with more prospects. And she’d always just assumed Robin would follow, because that's how things had always been. She’d make the plans, and he'd go along with it.

But college wasn't on Robin’s to-do list, and their differing journeys had sadly led to the end of years of friendship.   
And yet, here they are, ignorant to the last two years, picking up from where they left off. She feels comfortable here, with him. Perhaps they could rebuild what they used to have. 

“There's this gallery just outside of town that wants to showcase my art, so I'm working on as much as I can in between my shifts at the coffee shop.” He's flipping through a sketch pad, showing her various pieces of work done in numerous mediums. She reaches out to touch one - a painting in acrylic that rises from the page. Her fingers run gently along the piece, the paint rough against her skin. 

“That's incredible, Robin. I'm happy for you.” And she is. She's watched him grow as an artist, seen the passion that he puts into each piece, and he's so deserving of this because he's worked so hard. 

He passes her the sketch book so she can look through it at her own pace. She takes her time, imagining him leaning over his desk and working on each piece with a fire burning inside him, desperate to create works that will inspire and ignite thought and that will someday be worth something to someone. She's so lost that she barely notices his fingers brushing against the bandage around her forearm.

Her heart races, and she stiffens, well aware of his burning gaze. She keeps her head down, unable to speak or move or look at him. It's embarrassing. A constant reminder that she was too broken to cope, but too weak to do anything more about it. And, honestly, she sometimes wishes she'd died. Because then she wouldn't have to deal with _this_.

The book slams shut, and he jumps, looks up at her, and oh _God_ , is he crying? 

And there's that vulnerability again. It has her climbing from the bed, uttering her apologies but she _really must go_ because this is too much. He's calling after her, and she's aware of it, but she doesn't stop, doesn't turn around, just races down the stairs, barely stopping to pull on her coat before she's out of the door. Her heart is racing, the sound deafening, and she's struggling to breathe. But she makes it home, makes it up to her bedroom before she collapses. Tears stream down her face and she's breathing heavily and all too quickly, and she retreats to the hole she'd crawled into for the last week. 

She can't cope with this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my chapters are finally starting to get longer, which is a plus!!
> 
> WARNING that this chapter contains mentions of suicide, abuse, and implied rape, so please don't read it if any of these things will affect you.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! And thank you for the feedback!

The therapy starts after two weeks.

Regina despises the idea, but her mother has been insistent. In their quest to get their daughter _well again_ (like she has a curable physical illness, as opposed to the reality of her crippling depression and anxiety that had subsequently led to suicidal intentions), Henry, and Cora especially, have been kinder than usual. The older Mills woman has rarely shown her daughter an ounce of the affection that most mothers hold for their children, and Regina often wonders why she had gone through the trouble of having a child at all. But she's trying now, and that certainly counts for something.

Amidst the unusual kindness (which involves futile attempts at spending time together as a family, constant reminders that Regina is loved greatly by both of her parents, and the making of her favourite foods every night for dinner, which she struggles to keep down as of late), they've been strict with her. Therapy, medication, and other forms of treatment had been recommended by the doctors that treated Regina during her stay at the hospital, and both Cora and Henry intend to try each and every method until they find one that will _fix_ their child.

And so, despite the girls best efforts, she's carted off to a therapist’s office in town two week before Christmas to be treated by a Doctor Archie Hopper. He's a friend of her mother's, and so has offered the first session for free. And she wants to get better, she really does - if not for herself, then for her parents, who she’s unintentionally broken as a result of her selfish actions - but as she walks into the doctor’s office, she holds little hope. Is she really to believe that talking to a stranger once a week will miraculously cure her? That she’ll walk out of his office one morning and suddenly, wow, she remembers what happiness feels like?

It seems unlikely.

She checks in at reception, is greeted by a young blonde who shows little enthusiasm about her job, before she's ushered off to the waiting room while Doctor Hopper finishes up with his current patient. There's little to read - a few magazines that look like they've been here for a while - so she mindlessly watches the television, paying no attention to the information the newsreader is relaying. Her mind wanders. She considers running - her mother dropped her off, and is coming back in an hour to pick her up, so it's an option. But with Cora and Doctor Hopper’s friendship, she's certain such an idiotic decision would have dire repercussions. And so she waits.

And waits. 

And waits. 

Until Doctor Hopper appears almost twenty minutes later with his current patient, reminding the boy that they’ll see one another next week; same time, same place. The boy (who must be in his early teens) looks at her as he walks past, throwing her a shy smile that she has the courtesy of returning.

“Ah, Regina,” Doctor Hopper turns his attention to the young Mills woman now, a somewhat patronising smile gracing his lips. “Please, come in.”

With a slight hesitancy, Regina stands from the chair she's been occupying and wanders past the doctor and into his office. It's a tad on the small side, but is heavily furnished with two couches, a desk, a chair, and shelves upon shelves of books. She's eager to reach out as she passes them, to brush her fingers along a few of the spines, but she doesn't. Instead, the girl sits herself on one of the couches, gaze trained on the floor.

Doctor Hopper sits on the second couch, opposite her, and watches her for a moment, his pen poised over the pad in his hand. It's clear she doesn't want to be here, and he's certain he’ll get little out of her during this session, but he needs to start somewhere. Needs to build her trust to the point where she feels comfortable enough to open up to him.  
“So, Regina, tell me why you're here.”

Finally, she looks up at him, an incredulous look on her face. She sighs, shakes her head. It's a question she's been asking herself since she walked into his office almost thirty minutes ago; _why is she here?_ She'd rather be anywhere else. But that isn't an option, not unless she wants to upset her parents further. 

“My parents wanted me to come.”

“So, this wasn't your decision?” he asks, although she's almost certain he knows the answer. 

Again, Regina shakes her head, gaze following to her lap as she plays nervously with her fingers, picking at her nails.

“Well, despite that, you're obviously here for a reason,” the doctor continues when he realising she's not going to say anything. “Tell me what you want from these sessions.”

Right, _sessions_. It hardly even registered with her that this would be a common occurrence, the first of many long and gruelling talks. And she hates it already, knew that she would. Who on Earth decided that talk therapy was a suitable course for someone that struggled so greatly with social anxiety? How is she to benefit from this if she can't even form a coherent answer to his questions without the constant fear of sounding stupid? Because she does - when she talks about this, about her feelings and her problems and the drastic measures she'd taken to end her life, she feels ridiculous. 

She shrugs, because the only honest answer she can think of is that she doesn't - she doesn't want anything from these sessions, she's simply doing this to please her mother and father. 

The doctor tries again.

“Why don't we start with the obvious?” She looks at him once more, brows furrowed in confusion. With his pen, Doctor Hopper points to the bandages that peek out from the sleeves of her shirt, and out of habit, she tugs at them until the white is no longer visible. “What brought about the decision to end your life?”

It's a question that can't easily be answered, a few simple words strung together that seem to weigh so heavy. And it's only now that she realises that she's yet to speak about her intentions. People have asked, but not once has she given a straight answer. Because how can she? How can she be so open about her feelings when they're likely to hurt the people she cares about the most?

“I don't think I can answer that,” she finally utters, her voice timid.

“Because you don't have a reason? Or because you have too many?”

_Too many_ is an understatement. She can't count the number of reasons that had arisen in the months prior, the reasons that had damaged her enough to have her feel like she was drowning. Like she couldn't cope. And she'd thought about getting help long ago, but she'd been a coward, and things had only gotten worse. 

“There's too many,” she answers, her voice impossibly quieter than when she'd spoken a moment ago. “And, no offence, Doctor Hopper, but talking to you about them isn't going to fix anything. Opening up isn't going to miraculously change what’s happened, and coming to see you every week isn't going to make me want to kill myself any less. So you can ask your questions, and act like this is going to help, but it won't. Because nothing that's happened can be fixed or changed or erased.”

If he can hear the anger in her voice, can see the tears that flow freely, staining her cheeks, then he's polite enough to not comment. And she's grateful. Because she's had enough pity in the last few weeks to last her a lifetime.

“Regina,” he starts, but pauses briefly, as if he's considering what he should say next. “I'm not a miracle worker. If I could click my fingers and have you feel better instantly, I would. Trust me, I would. But I can't, and I know that. But I will do everything in my power to help you, because you've just sat here and admitted to me that these suicidal intentions haven't gone away, and I'll be damned if I let something happen to you without at least trying to help. So, talk to me.”

————

An hour later, Regina is back in the car with her mother, grateful to be out of the doctor’s office. They made progress, very little, but enough for now. And the girl feels somewhat lighter, as if opening up about her problems has halved her worries. As if Doctor Hopper now shares her burdens. 

Cora tries to question Regina as they drive home, but she does little in the way of making conversation - she's done enough talking today. So they eventually fall into a comfortable silence and remain that way until they pull into the driveway of their home. 

She's shocked to see him sitting on their porch. Neither one of them has made an attempt to reach out to the other since she'd ran from his bedroom a few days ago. He stands as she gets out of the car, hands in his pockets, a slight sheepish smile tugging at his lips. Cora greets him politely, and Robin returns it, making a joke that has her mother laughing a laugh that Regina rarely hears. And then they're alone, her mother having excused herself, uttering something about heading inside to catch up on her paperwork.

“Hi,” he mumbles, smiling ever so at Regina. The two of them sit down on the steps of the porch, side by side, shoulders pressed together much like they had sat on his bed the week before. The way that she reaches for his hand is a silent apology, and the way in which he gives her fingers a gentle squeeze is his way of telling her it's okay. 

“I started therapy today,” she states, answering a question that he hasn't asked. 

“Oh… how did that go?”

She shrugs, because it hadn't gone well, but it hadn't gone as horribly as she'd originally presumed it would. Doctor Hopper had been polite, and hadn't pushed her into discussing anything she didn't wish to (though she's sure he's bound to bring up certain topics that they've yet to cover in the weeks coming, and maybe she’ll find herself in a position where she feels comfortable talking about them eventually, but not yet).

Regina shivers against the cold, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Robin, and then he's standing tugging gently at her hand.

“Come on. I know where we can go.”

————

She feels somewhat silly as she ascends the stairs to the treehouse in the Locksley’s back yard. When they were younger, herself and Robin had spent much of their time up in this tree. It offered a comfort Regina couldn't find anywhere else. Whether she was sad, or angry, or scared about something, the two would climb up into the treehouse and talk and talk until she felt better. Many a night, they'd fallen asleep in this little house, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't missed it.

“Welcome home, Your Majesty,” Robin says, his arms open wide, a grin that's all dimples spreading across his face. And she's unsure why, but she begins to cry. His smile falters. He looks shocked, worried, as if maybe he's done something wrong. But he reaches out for her nonetheless, gathers her in his arms and holds her as if he has no intention of ever letting go. His hand rubs slow circles into her back, shushing her and repeating gentle reminders into her ear; friendly sentiments of _it’s alright_ and _I've got you_. And God, she's missed him. She tells him just that, the statement almost incoherent as she blubbers into his shirt. But he understands, utters the same words back, and holds her tightly until her tears subside.

When they do, Robin sits amongst a pile of cushions that are scattered across the floor, and Regina joins him. Her body feels _heavy_ , and so she leans into him, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. And she breathes. She relaxes into him, eyes falling closed as she relishes his company after having been without it for so long. They fall into a comfortable silence, and it's almost as if she'd never left him.

Almost.

And, perhaps if she hadn't gone off to college the year before, perhaps if she'd stayed here with her family, with _him_ , then none of the terrible things that had happened in the weeks before would have occurred. She'd still be her usual, chipper herself, as opposed to this girl that not even she recognises - so void of life, with a numbness settling within her that refuses to subside.

Again, she begins to answer a question that he hasn't asked, and she doesn't know why she says what she does, but she feels as if it needs to be said.

“There was this guy at college,” she begins, her voice hoarse from crying. “We started dating during the summer. He was so kind and charming, and I felt the happiest I had been in ages. And then a weeks ago, I found out he’d cheated on me, and it broke my heart.” 

The tears have started to fall again, and though Robin has yet to say anything, Regina knows he’s listening.

“I confronted him about it and… he got angry. He got so angry. And I don't remember how it happened - I don't remember much of it at all - but he hit me. I had this horrible purple bruise under my eye for weeks, and my nose bled, and it hurt so much. But he looked so sorry. He apologised to me over and over, and he was crying, so I forgave him. Biggest mistake of my life.”

She can tell he’s angry now, has grip on her having tightened. When she looks up, his jaw is clenched, and he’s crying too. Silent tears, that fall freely down his face. She reaches up to wipe one away, and he finally looks at her. The pain that's evident in his eyes makes her stomach ache, and before he can say anything, she carries on.

“I thought it would just happen once, but it didn't. Once he knew he'd gotten away with it the first time, it started happening more. He learned to be discreet about it, so people wouldn't notice. And I wanted to leave him, I really did. But every time I brought it up, he’d get angry again and he’d hit me. And he tried to apologise every time, thought he could make it up to me by having sex with me and showing me how much he loved me. But I didn't want it, not after everything that had happened. That didn't matter to him, though. He was adamant to make it up to me, and thought that having sex with me even though I didn't want it was the only way how.”

She stops, sighs. She's been rambling, and needs a moment to collect her thoughts before she finishes.

“And so I couldn't leave him. But I couldn't be with him, either. So one night, when he was away visiting his parents, I did the only thing that seemed possible.” They both know what it is, so she doesn't quite know why she finishes with a mumbled “I tried to kill myself.” But she does, and it has her sobbing once again. Breaking down in his arms as he holds her, palms rubbing at her back, fingers trailing through her hair, sweet nothings being whispered into her ear - _anything_ to bring her comfort because, God, he can't stand to see her like this. 

They sit like this for while, her crying, him providing comfort, until she's calmed. When she finally looks up at him again, Robin offers her as much of a smile as he can muster, deft fingers reaching up to gently wipe away the tears that still stain her cheeks. And then he kisses her forehead, pulls her to his chest, and mumbles into her ear “I will do everything I can to make sure that he never hurts you again.”

And she believes him.

And for the first time in months, she feels safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this chapter is shorter than the last, and I'm sorry for that. The idea for this one came to me suddenly and I wanted to get it written up asap, so sorry if it's not as good as the previous chapters! 
> 
> But I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Thank you again for the positive feedback!

“So, tell me something good that happened this week.”

He'd asked the same thing of her the week before, and she'd struggled to find an answer. Nothing much had happened in the short time between her first and second sessions, so she'd rambled on about a hike that her mother and father had dragged her on, and how the fresh air had helped tremendously, and Doctor Hopper had suggested she make it a regular occurrence. But this week, Regina _does_ have good news, and she feels somewhat excited to tell him.

“Robin got me a job at the coffee shop,” she offers, a grin gracing her lips. On the evening of her last session, her neighbour had stopped over after dinner and informed her that the store was looking for a new barista, and she'd jumped at the chance. Something had shifted in her, and sitting around at home, alone with her thoughts was no longer an option. She'd go crazy - _crazier_ \- if she had to spend another moment staring at the same four walls. 

Come Monday evening, she’d endured a ten-hour trial shift, and the manager had taken to her quite quickly, so she was pleased to announce to her parents when she got home that he'd given her the job. To say they looked relieved would be an understatement. Since coming home a little over a month ago, she'd sat through speech after speech on how she should be trying to inject some form of normality into her life, and she'd thought that merely repairing her friendship with the Locksley boy had been enough. But clearly not. And when Cora and Henry had found out that she'd gotten herself a job, they were over the moon. 

She’d started the following morning, and since then she's worked four long shifts, made somewhat easier with her best friend guiding her through and making her shifts more pleasant with his contagious laughter and ridiculous stories. 

“Well, that's definitely good news,” Doctor Hopper offers with a smile, and Regina finds herself blushing under his intense stare. He looks _proud_ of her. And in turn, she feels proud of herself too.

The young girl rambles on and on about her shifts, and Robin, and the customers, and Robin, and the doctor listens on with a knowing smile that is lost on Regina. He's all she talks about lately - Robin, that is - and people have started to notice. _Robin and I did this_ and _Robin and I went here_ have become common conversation starters in the Mills home, and Cora really must thank the boy for aiding her daughter in her recovery.

“I have a shift this afternoon,” she states, matter-of-factly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she thinks about the hours to come. Only herself and Robin will be working this afternoon’s shift, and they're the ones that she enjoys the most. Their regular customers have taken to Regina quickly, and she finds herself laughing and making jokes with them, and she can honestly say that this is the happiest she's felt in a long time.

This session contrasts greatly with the first two, with conversation flowing easily and remaining positive for the most part, and when Regina steps out of the doctor’s office an hour later, she _feels better_. And for the first time, she wonders if this - the talking - may actually help. 

_____________

He's already there when she walks through the coffee shop doors, behind the counter, flirting playfully with the elderly lady that he's serving. Regina watches the woman swat his arm, throwing her head back in a laugh, and the girl smiles. Robin’s a people pleaser, and it's one of the things she's always adored about him. He never fails to put a smile on someone's face. 

She can feel his eyes on her as she rounds the counter, grabbing an apron in passing and tying it around her waist. Her cheeks redden (she can feel it, feel the heat rise on her skin, and she curses herself for allowing him to have this effect on her).

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” he greets her, and she finally meets his eyes. Her own roll back playfully in response to the nickname, but she can't contain the grin that's still etched on her features. She utters her own greeting in response and sidles up beside him behind the counter, making quick work of refilling the near empty coffee pot. 

“How was your visit with the shrink?” he asks her, a playful lilt to his voice. He knows that she’s not particularly fond of the therapy sessions, and seeks to make light of them. And though his words are teasing, she knows his question is genuine.

“Same as always,” she tells him in reply. “I rambled on for an hour about this and that, and he listened, nodded in all the right places, and said all the right things.” She shrugs her shoulders, pours herself her own cup of coffee, and then turns to face him, almost startled by the genuine concern swimming in his ocean blue eyes. “But I think it's starting to help. It's not as bad as I initially presumed it would be, and he's easy to talk to, so I can't complain.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Robin tells her with a dashing smile that's all white teeth and dimples. She feels herself flush under his intense gaze, and turns away in time (she hopes) for it to go unnoticed.

And before anything else can be said, a customer steals her attention, and she gets to work serving him, fully aware of Robin’s gaze following her as she prepares the man’s order. 

They quickly fall into their usual routine: Regina handles drinks orders, Robin deals with the food. They chat happily away to the customers, laughing and joking and exchanging pleasantries with each and every one of them. When business slows down, Regina makes her rounds, coffee pot in hand, making sure to stop at each table and catch up with the regulars. She feels at ease here, happy almost; it provide her with a welcome break from the seemingly ever present noise of her mind, and for that, she's nothing if not grateful.

When her break rolls around, she helps herself to another cup of coffee, and the complimentary sandwich the employees are welcome to when on long shifts. As always, she takes a seat on the table closest to the counter, and retrieves her phone from her pocket to catch up on anything she's missed during the hours it's been tucked away in her bag out back. And it all feels normal.

Except today it’s different.

Amongst the text from her mother asking whether she needs a lift home, and a few emails that she can look at later, are two texts from her boyfriend - ex-boyfriend. Her stomach drops, and she stops mid chew, eyes widening in a way that would be almost comical were it not for the severity of the situation. The colour drains from her face, and she feels sick to her stomach. Tears well in her eyes, and though she's aware her hands have begun to shake and her breathing has altered ever so slightly (each one comes out shallow and in quick succession), she's unsure of how to control them, and so makes no attempt to do so.

The simple _I miss you_ wouldn't have warranted such a reaction had it not been followed by an _I’m driving down to see you_. 

And, God, she can't handle this, is certain she utters such statement out loud, and she knows Robin is calling her, is aware of his presence to the left of her, but she can't think about anything else. And the noise in her mind gets louder. She wants to run, but she feels frozen, and _God please I can't see him_ rings in her ears. 

And then Robin is dragging her to her feet and ushering her behind the counter, into the office that sits at the back of the store. And she collapses onto her knees, no longer able to hold herself upright. She's certain she looks idiotic, absolutely _pathetic_ , and if _he_ were here to see her like this, she's sure he'd tell her just that. But what else can she do? She’s still struggling to breathe, struggling to focus on anything other than the cacophonous screaming in her mind.

Her back presses against a wall, her knees drawing up to her chest, hands covering her ears and gripping at her hair, and she just wants it to _stop, please stop, please, make it stop_. And again, she must have spoken aloud, because Robin questions her with a _stop what?_ Even amongst the other noise, she can hear the concern in his voice. His palm comes to rest on her knee as she rocks back and forth, mumbling to herself repeatedly because _she can't do this_. And she has to remind herself that it's Robin that's with her, it's Robin that's touching her, and that Robin is a sweet and gentle soul, and he’ll never hurt her. 

His voice grows distant suddenly, and she doesn't think he's talking to her anymore - can't be, because it sounds like he’s having a conversation, and she knows for sure that she's not providing him with any answers.

And that's all she can remember before it becomes too much, stars clouding her eyes before her vision fades to black completely.


End file.
